


Late night conversations with the moon

by Fatale (femme)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Cheating, Consent Issues, Domestic Violence, Drama, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, i guess, none of this is between magnus/alec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-02-14 20:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13015956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale
Summary: Magnus works in a coffee shop and Alec is his hot customer. It takes Magnus about 5 seconds to decide he’s definitely going to bone that guy.This is a story about people, places, and growing up. And coffee. So much coffee.





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Coffee shop au that nobody asked for. I'm sorry. 
> 
> Many thanks to Sapphire2309 for the speedy beta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THE TAGS, READ THE TAGS.

**"I have late night conversations with the moon, he tells me about the sun and I tell him about you." - S.L. Gray**

 

 

After a short and truly distressing stint as a salesperson at a Hot Topic in Queens, and a traumatic incident involving a horde of fifteen-year-old admirers, Magnus started working at Java Jace!!! six years ago and hasn't looked back since.

Java Jace is a small indie coffee shop with a vaguely frightening number of American Flags plastered across the walls and sullen employees - okay, one sullen employee, and only in the wee hours of the morning - who all wear a putrid rainbow of aprons with Java Jace!!! scrawled across the front in a cheerful script that makes Magnus feel a bit like he's having a coffee-induced seizure, which, knowing Jace, is likely on purpose.

Magnus gracelessly heaves the mismatched chairs off the tables while Clary counted out bills for the register. He swears colorfully as a chair bounces off the table and hits the floor, leaving a large dent in the leg.

"I won't tell Jace if you won't," Clary calls out.

"Much appreciated," Magnus says and Clary crosses the small shop in four large strides to hand him a coffee.

"Iced White Chocolate Mocha today."

Magnus takes an appreciative sip. "Transcendent."

"Is it your signature drink?"

"Nope," he says. "But getting closer." Magnus and Clary have been playing this game for years. She makes a drink and Magnus tells her if it's his signature drink or not. With 87,000 drinks to choose from, they can probably play it well into their retirement.

He takes a few more sips of his drink, then throws it away. He can't drink anything this sweet while hung-over. Clary had been out with him last night, but he's pretty sure by her stubbornly unwavering perkiness, she stopped at least five shots of tequila before him.

"I might puke," he says, matter of fact.

 She makes a face. "Please don't, then I really will have to tell Jace."

"I'm a firm believer that nothing that happens before 10 am counts, cupcake."

She shoots him a wry smile. "I guess that's what Darren at Pandemonium says, huh?" She pulls the orange apron over her head and ties it in the back, loudly proclaiming Java Jace!!! across the front.

"Darren?"

Clary rolls her eyes. "The guy you left Pandemonium with last night? Or like, really early this morning?"

"Ah," Magnus says, setting up the register. He'd thought his name was Damon. Clary doesn't need to know that. She can be so judgey, just because she's dated one person her whole life and they're probably going to get married and have a bunch of disgustingly perfect ginger brats. Devon from Pandemonium would totally agree.

"Oh, Magnus," Clary says in the voice that Magnus hates, hates because he's having fun, not hurting anyone and so what if thirty is creeping alarmingly close and he still works as a barista and can't remember the names of the last five people he slept with? "I just worry about you, you know," Clary says quietly.

Magnus nods, finishes counting the till and closes the register. "I know, cupcake. I worry about me, too."

 

\---

 

It's mid-morning after the early rush dies down when Magnus see him: all glorious six-plus feet of him, topped by huge hazel eyes and a shock of messy black hair. It should look dangerous, sexy, the wide shoulders and black ensemble, but his eyes are wide, guileless, with a sensuous curve to his mouth and a shy smile.

Magnus elbows Clary in the ribs, ignoring her disgruntled oof, and surreptitiously nods towards the man studying the small chalkboard with their daily coffee specials spelled out with small flourishes and ringed with intricate chalk flowers.

 "Hot," she says appreciatively. “Never seen him before.”

Magnus thinks they'd have amazing children together. Of course, they'd have a bit of prejudice to deal with, mixed race and all, but--

A sharp jab to the ribs by Clary, and Magnus realizes his customer has been clearing his throat politely for a full twenty seconds and holy shit, this is just what Magnus does, isn't it? Sees some random person and make a bunch of assumptions and plans a life together, then get his heart broken when the stranger turns out to be a giant bag of dicks. Jace is right, Magnus sucks at dating, which is why he should stick to hookups.

 "Can I help you?" Magnus asks demurely. Very valiantly, he does not add, I get off in eight hours, speaking of getting off - good god, even his subconscious is gross.

Hot Coffee Guy runs a hand through his hair distractedly, while Magnus eyes his huge hands and tries not to think dirty thoughts. "I think, uh, just black coffee and a blueberry muffin?"

Magnus shoots the stranger a sly smile. "What name should I-" call out in bed "-write on the coffee cup?"

"Alec," Hot Coffee Guy answers.

 “He’s Magnus,” Clary adds unhelpfully, scooting close to Magnus behind the register and shooting him a blinding smile.

 Alec looks confused and hands him a few bills. “Nice to meet you?”

 “I’ll have your drink ready in a minute,” Magnus interjects, embarrassed, and gives him his change, which Alec dumps in the tip jar.

 Magnus turns away to give Clary the nastiest look he can muster. Judging by her expression, it’s effective. So now Alec not only thinks he’s a nerd who can barely function around hot guys, he’s also so hard up for dates that his coworkers have to proposition unsuspecting customers.

 He makes Alec’s coffee quickly, writes “Alec” across the side in sharpie and deliberately without thinking about it too much, adds his cell phone number just underneath.

 Alec takes his coffee and wrapped muffin and leaves with a quiet thanks.

 Magnus has done his part to let him know he’s interested, and he tries to be hopeful, but he can’t help the feeling that this is the last time he’ll see Alec.

   
\----

 

He is, as so often is the case, completely wrong, since Alec shows up the next morning. He comes earlier and hits the morning rush. Magnus barely has time to wink at him while sliding his coffee across the counter before people are taking Alec’s spot and clamoring for their pre-work coffee fix.

 “Was that Hot Coffee Guy I just saw?” Clary asks, sidling up next to Magnus.

 “It was,” Magnus confirms happily. “Two days in a row.”

 “Somebody likes you,” she says in a sing-song voice.

 “Hush and help me get everyone their orders,” Magnus says, vainly trying to stamp down the fluttering hope in his chest. He didn’t tell Clary about writing his number on Alec’s cup, but then again, he really didn’t expect to see Alec ever again. It’s not like Magnus checked his phone on every break and took a five-minute shower last night to make sure he didn’t miss a call.

 But Alec came again today, with the same shy smile for Magnus, and it has to mean something right? Maybe it means he really likes muffins. Or this coffee shop is closer than the approximately eleven-billion coffee shops in New York.

 He may, depressingly, like perky redheads, as so many of their customers do.

 With that bleak thought, Magnus gets back to work.

   
\---

 

   
He gets home at six, eats a terrible microwave meal and watches a few episodes of Project Runway while bitching out loud about the poor construction of the outfits.

He’d like to be able to tell Clary tomorrow that he had an invigorating evening staying in with his cat and reading a book to, like, better his mind or something, but Pandemonium's hosting this year’s Studs n’ Suds night and drinks are 2 for 1 for twinks.

 

 Magnus feels restless, like his skin's a size too small, itching at the edges. Going out and getting laid will probably help; it always has in the past.

 Magnus has a couple of close friends he could call for company, but with Clary and Jace attached at the hip, and Catarina serving underprivileged people in some country Magnus is certain he couldn’t point out on a map, that just leaves Ragnor, who's allergic to fun.

 Magnus styles his hair artfully tousled with some purple streaks to match his nails and eyeliner, tucks some cash in his socks and dusts off his best Armani jockstrap.

If Alec doesn't call, well, it's his loss.

 

\---

 

Magnus wakes up feeling gritty, tired, and with glitter smeared across his face and other far more suspicious places. He really should have stopped after the third martini. The problem is, it's really hard to make good decisions once you've made a host of bad ones to get you there in the first place.

Magnus slides out of bed with a groan. Once he's 90% sure he's not going to puke, he pulls on some workout clothes. Rainbow ones, because being hung-over is no excuse to be boring.

He knows he looks kind of like a vampire, gazing up at the bright sky, snarling and hissing at the sun like it's his mortal enemy, but he has work later and the crisp morning air is already waking him up, clearing his head. He has a long history of partying into the early hours of the morning and dragging his sorry ass into work shortly after.

To his surprise, he sees a familiar gloomy shadow at the park. Alec's sitting on a bench alone, occasionally checking his phone and tapping out messages with one hand.

To the objective person who doesn't hate sunlight, it's a beautiful summer morning, and as expected, the park is filled with the odd mismatch of runners, the elderly, moms, young kids, and one hung-over guy in running shorts and a rainbow sweatband who makes poor choices in life. And then there's this huge guy wearing all black and sitting alone. To be entirely honest, Alec kind of looks like a creep, and if Magnus didn't already know Alec seems like a pretty decent guy, Magnus would keep his kids away from him, too.

Magnus could say hi, but that's veering dangerously close to stalker territory. Does making someone coffee a couple of times and exchanging smiles and names make them friends, especially if one of them is wearing a name tag at the time?

Magnus is only out at this ungodly hour because he feels like shit and he'd rather not and he thought the fresh air would aid in that endeavor. He hasn't properly fixed his makeup, his hair looks like a dead animal curled up on his head and _also_ maybe did a few too many Jell-O shots, and his crotch itches in a way that he desperately hopes is due to the glitter he saw there earlier.

He doesn't want Alec to see him this way. He looks around, ducks behind a tree. Jesus, this is sad. He's 27 and hiding from a boy he _has a crush on._

 The thing is, desperately wanting to be an adult doesn't make it magically happen.

When he's reasonably sure Alec isn't looking, Magnus makes a break for it. He ignores the strange looks he gets and power walks all the way home, leaving a trail of furious glitter in his wake.

 

\---

 

  
This is the day.

This is the day all of Magnus' weird hopes and dreams about a sexy customer he barely knows at all will come to fruition.

His lip-gloss perfectly accentuates the sumptuous curve of his mouth, his eyeliner is on point, his eyebrow game is strong. Not even his ugly apron can bring him down.

He feels kind of sick.

"You look like you need coffee," Clary says, scaring the ever-loving shit out of Magnus. She moves like a tiny ginger ninja.

"I always need coffee," Magnus says, once he's relatively certain he's no longer going to wet himself.

"Try a Caramel Brulee Frappuccino," she says, pushing the cold drink into his hands.

Magnus takes a cautious sip. "I like the Caramel Machiatto better."

Clary hums. "I'll figure you out one day, Magnus Bane."

"Better people have tried," Magnus says archly. He doesn't add, if you figure me out, please let me know, too.

The bell on the door jingles as Alec comes in. As he approaches the counter, Magnus takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "Did you know," he says brightly, "coffee is actually a fruit?"

Alec looks confused, says hesitantly, "I did not know that."

"New Yorkers alone drink almost seven times as much coffee as the rest of the United States. And," Magnus says hurriedly, taking in Alec's increasingly alarmed expression, "dark roasts have less caffeine than light roasts. Java Jace alone has 87,000 coffee drinks possible in various combinations and oh my god, you don't even like coffee, do you?"

"I-I," Alec stutters, "don't _dislike_ coffee."

Then why order it?" Magnus wonders. He feels like he's been taking crazy pills; up is down, the sky is green, Jace has a sexy, flattering haircut.

Alec chews his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and releasing it while he thinks. Magnus valiantly tries not to stare. "The coffee all looks really complicated," Alec says apologetically, a fetching light pink stain blossoming across his cheeks.

"Complicated," Magnus repeats, disbelieving.

Alec shrugs helplessly, sighs. "Frappes, Lattes, Macchiatos...." He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "I guess I'm not smart enough."

"I'm sure that's not true," Magnus says in a rush.

It might be true. In his darkest moments, Magnus did wonder what Alec's fatal flaw was. All beautiful people have them, except Magnus, though some unkind souls may call him louche. His ex, Camille, was a mean asshole, and an astonishing amount of crazy that even Magnus did not see coming.

Alec might, in fact, be stupid. Why not.

Magnus can live with stupid. He can work with stupid. "How about this," he says, "I'll make you a different drink every day and you can try them all until we find out which is your favorite." His idea, which he's shamelessly stolen from Clary, has the added benefit of ensuring Alec comes in to buy coffee only from him.

"Deal," Alec says and slides his hand over to Magnus. Magnus takes Alec's hand, dry and strong, fingernails clean but bitten down to the quick, and shakes it.

 

\---

 

When he gets to work, ten minutes late, as usual, he's surprised to see the chairs down and Jace at the register.

"Nice of you to drop by."

"Yes," Jace says with a sunny smile, "it's good to be boss."

Clary comes out of the back, holding a tray of cranberry scones. "Hot stuff coming through."

Jace leers at Clary, snakes a hand around her waist. "I'll say," he mummers into her neck.

Clary laughs, playfully slaps him. "I'm all sweaty."

Jace hums. "Just how I like you."

"That's extremely unprofessional," Magnus says, in the snottiest tone he can manage.

It's not that he hates PDA, actually loves it when he's the one groping or getting groped, it's just that -- well, they're just so sure of themselves, aren't they? Never had a doubt that they'd get married, be together forever. Jace knew he wanted to own a coffee shop, Clary knew she wanted to be an artist. Now Jace has a semi-successful coffee shop with mismatched tables and truly awful aprons and Clary's going to college for art and they'll get married once she graduates in the spring.

It throws his own life into uncomfortably sharp relief. He's 27, a college drop-out and living on a slightly-above-minimum wage job, subsidized by a continually dwindling trust fund he received from his truly awful father he hasn't so much as exchanged Christmas cards with, in nearly a decade.

He's never done anything he didn't sort of fall into, he's never met anyone who he wanted to be a better person for. Most of his hookups actively encourage his worst behavior. And everyone in his life, Catarina, Ragnor, Even Clary, to a lesser extent, just sigh and say, "Well that's Magnus!" like he's an errant puppy that can't help himself.

He just -- Magnus has hopes, he has plans. Granted, none of his plans extend past Thursday and all of his hopes are vague and improbable ones, like being The Queen of the Nile.

"Don't be jealous, Magnus," Jace says. "You'll meet somebody."

Magnus doubts it, but can't say that out loud because it's just too sad.

 

\---

 

  
It's three more days before Alec comes in again. It's not like Magnus has been crossing the days off on his calendar. That would be juvenile and obsessive.

Their fingers brush as Magnus slides Alec's coffee over the counter towards him. Iced Toasted White Chocolate Mocha today.

Alec thanks him, and in three shorts days, it's like Magnus forgot how dark his eyelashes, how bright his eyes, because it hits him again like a shock to his system. In college, his fraternity once did the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. Someone videotaped a frat brother sneaking up behind Magnus and dumping an entire bucket of ice water on his head. The shock to the system was immediate, the air sucked from his lungs, as icy water snaked down his body.

This doesn't feel dissimilar, and Magnus is left, shallowly breathing as Alec goes to the condiment bar for a coffee sleeve and straw.

As he turns, Magnus' eyes zero in on a small paperback copy of _Mrs. Dalloway_ peeking out of Alec's back pocket.

"I knew it," Magnus yells, loudly enough that Alec, all the customers in the shop, and a few passerbys outside, all stop to stare at him. He clears his throat. "I knew he wasn't stupid," he leans down to tell Clary in a triumphant whisper.

She looks alarmed. "I didn't say he was."

"He reads lady books," Jace observes from behind them.

"How dare you?" Magnus screeches.

" _Mrs. Dalloway_ is a beautiful novel," Clary assures him, laying a pacifying hand on Magnus' arm.

Jace snorts. "If you're an unfulfilled housewife. Do you think we should have him throw us a depressing party?"

"I hate you," Magnus says with feeling. "My Alec has untold depths."

"Which I'm sure you'd be _glad_ to explore, " Jace says, making the mild phrase sound as lewd as possible.

"I am _always_ up for discussing literature," Magnus says.

To be fair, Magnus is more than a little afraid Alec's a bored housewife, though. He has no appreciable job, unless he works nights, but then he's usually in too early in the morning for the graveyard shift. He doesn't dress well enough for an office job.

"Maybe he's an escort, he's handsome enough," Clary considers.

"His nails are too sloppy," Magnus says, distracted. Oh god, oh god, maybe Alec is a hit man, what with his extensive collection of black clothes. Black clothes don't show _bloodstains_. Actually, that's kind of sexy. Maybe he's a pimp -- wait no, he's not flashy enough. Maybe he sells socks professionally online. He's an _online used sock salesman_.

"What do his nails have to do with-"

Magnus holds up two fingers and twists them around in an obscene gesture.

"Oh," Clary says, voice small.

"That is more information than I ever needed about your sex life, Bane," Jace says, shielding Clary's eyes like she's a blushing virgin. Magnus knows better. He's heard the terrible noises coming from the employee room when they didn't know he was coming in early.

After sampling his drink, Alec waits by the end of the counter as he always does, while Magnus takes care of customers, so they can chat for a few minutes after the line clears.

 "Sorry, I can't stick around, I have a lot to do today."

"And what might that be?" Magnus asks apprehensively and tries to get a surreptitious look at his socks. They're black, surprise, surprise. And like everything else Alec wears, a little shabby.

Distressed clothing is a popular enough look, but Magnus has the distinct impression that Alec's ensembles are more the product of what he could find laying on the floor that seemed clean enough not to offend strangers than carefully considered fashion choices.

Alec runs a distracted hand through his hair, which only makes him about a thousand times sexier. "The usual, grocery shopping, picking up my boyfriend's dry-cleaning--"

Magnus is nodding along until his brain comes to a screeching halt. Alec's probably still talking, but who the fuck cares? Alec has a boyfriend? So he likes guys, yay, but a boyfriend?

Alec trails off. "--Magnus? Are you okay?"

No, Magnus is not in any way, shape, or form okay. He feels like he just had a stroke. He needs a drink, fuck everything, he needs a whole _liquor store_.

"---fine, " he hears himself tell Alec. He doesn't know what he says beyond that, but it eases the slight lines of tension around Alec's eyes and he's grateful for that, at least, that he didn't make a total fool of himself.

Alec's phone chimes and he checks it, huffs, sends off a quick message. He shoots Magnus an apologetic look. "Sorry, got to go."

Magnus nods woodenly.

 He watches Alec leaves the coffee shop and looks down when something touches his arm.

Clary pushes a latte into his hands. "Salted Caramel Mocha."

He takes a despondent drink. "Sublime," he says, but even to his own ears, his voice sounds hollow.

 

\---

 

"He's got a boyfriend," Magnus says for the fifth time.

Half a world away, he hears Catarina sigh into her phone. "You've said. About six times now."

Magnus passed tipsy a while ago and is currently teetering on the edge of laying on the floor and crying into a puddle of beer drunk. If he starts listening to country music, his cat, Chairman Meow will have to send for help.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Magnus groans. "Why didn't he say something before I went and fell in love with him?"

"Darling," Catarina says, "don't think you're being a bit much?"

"I know, I know. I'm overly dramatic. I barely know him. God, I fucking _know_. He's got a boyfriend who he picks up dry-cleaning for, he's happy, he's in love and I'm just some asshole who works in a coffee shop and tries to guess his inseam."

"Not out loud?" Catarina asks after a brief alarmed silence.

"Of course not," Magnus says miserably. He does not tell his friend that he's pretty sure he's been caught eye-fucking Alec more than once, though. She'd just get concerned again, tell him he needs to find a nice boy or girl, settle down. He's _trying_ , goddamit. Not very hard, but still.

"Maybe he's not very happy with his boyfriend," Magnus theorizes. "Maybe that's why he doesn't talk about him much. Maybe his boyfriend's really short or has unsightly facial scarring. I could break them up."

"Oh, Magnus," Catarina sighs again.

Magnus doesn't necessarily mind being a home wrecker. It's practically the only name someone hasn't called him yet.

"Cat, Cat, Cat," Magnus slurs with the kind of bravado that only the truly stupid or very drunk have. "I could do it. I would happily home wreck him. I would home wreck him all day and night. It would be tough, but I'm a giver."

 "You're a generous soul, Magnus Bane."

He may be imagining the slight tinge of disapproval in her voice. Must be the bad connection.

"Listen, babe, I've got to get to bed. Early morning tomorrow."

"Yeah, go help the world and let me wallow in misery here."

"Don't wallow until you get to the bottom of the bottle," Catarina says, voice warm even from a thousand miles away.

"Too late," Magnus says glumly. "Love you."

"Love you, too," she says and hangs up.

There is always this moment before blackout drunk that great emotional revelations are had and this is his: Magnus realizes he is not a very good person. Maybe a shitty, selfish, directionless asshole who has intimacy issues, actually, and who has spent the last two hours yelling about homewrecking a customer in his coffee shop while Catarina's busy building hospitals out of popsicle sticks and curing cancer on the side. He could - _should_ \- be doing more with his life.

It's a shame he won't remember any of this in the morning.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. the middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THE TAGS

 

**"I am learning to love the sound of my feet walking away from things not meant for me." - A.G.**

 

  
He's got the rare opening shift with Clary's best friend, Simon, who works when he's not on tour with his band and he feels like it. In-between Simon being out of state and generally refusing to get up before noon, Magnus can count on one hand the times he's opened the shop with him. It's a life philosophy he has a lot of respect for.

He likes Simon the same way he generally likes most people he doesn't think about often.

"Simeon, did you open the register?"

Simon groans from where he is slumped over the counter. "Do you think I should eat all the muffins?" His stomach grumbles loudly.

"Sure,” Magnus says, "if you really feel like paying Jace to work."

"You wouldn't turn me in," Simon says, suddenly looking awake.

"I wouldn't," Magnus confirms, "but I'm pretty sure Jace has cameras in here." Actually, he knows this for a fact, since one of his hookups tracked him to the shop and caused such a scene, they'd had to call the cops.

Magnus walks over to the pastry case, deliberately touches one of the muffins. "Oops," he says, "I touched this with my bare hands. Guess we'll have to waste it," he says and tosses it to Simon, who catches it gratefully.

"You're good people, Magnus Bane."

He's not really good people, the security cameras can attest to that, but he figures on a cosmic scale, he can use all the good karma he can get.

   
\----

   
"Iced Cinnamon Dolce Latte," Magnus happily announces.

Alec eyes the drink apprehensively. "It's bright," he says, finally.

It _is_ rather bright, Magnus has to give him that. Jace thinks quirky colors give their coffee character, is so proud of their green foam, thinks customers come to Java Jace!!! to drink puce colored coffee, and no one seems to have the heart to tell him busy New Yorkers would drink vomit if it had enough caffeine.

"It's a classic," Magnus says. He adjusts his houndstooth scarf around his neck. Paired with distressed black skinny jeans, it makes him look ridiculously trendy, but the jeans do great things for his ass. He arches his back a little, half-turns, to give Alec a better view. He cranes his neck to see if Alec's looking and tries not to feel disappointed that Alec's busy suspiciously eyeing his drink instead. Across the room, a guy with messy hair and a beige trench coat is giving him an appreciative look. Magnus scowls at him.

Alec takes a small sip and looks up at Magnus, eyes wide. "It's good."

Magnus tries not to feel insulted by his surprise; he made it, of course it's good. "Don't look so shocked, pumpkin. It's a classic for a reason."

"Pumpkin?" Alec says doubtfully.

"Just trying some names out," Magnus says breezily.

"That's how you know you've made it to Magnus' inner circle," Clary calls out from the pastry counter where she's carefully sliding the almond croissants forward to make room for more. "He hasn't used my actual name for three years." She looks thoughtful. "He may not actually remember my name?"

"Oh - you. Hush, buttercup," Magnus says quickly. Laughs nervously. "Now that we've got that out of the way, I'm curious -- is Alec is short for anything?"

"Alexander, but only my mother calls me that."

"Would you mind terribly much if I did, too?"

"If you never call me pumpkin again, feel free."

"I'll have you know, Magnus stands for Magnificent."

"That doesn't even make sense," Clary says mournfully. "I can't believe anyone ever goes home with you."

Alec laughs awkwardly. "I think I'll stick to Magnus."

"Whatever you want, Alexander," Magnus says.

 Alec grins and Magnus’ heart stutters. He licks his lips to cover up his sudden nervousness, brushes invisible crumbs from his apron. “So, is this the drink?”

 “It’s good,” Alec says, closing his eyes and taking another appreciative drink. Magnus swallows a few times, throat clicking dryly. “But this isn’t the drink.”

 “Ah, well, hope springs eternal,” Magnus says, grateful his voice doesn’t crack.

 “Guess we’ll have to keep going.”

 “Guess so,” Magnus says, and doesn’t know if he’s relieved or scared.

 

\---

  
"You know," he says conversationally, as if he's not secretly plotting to break up Alec's relationship, "we can sit down. My boss doesn't care."

"Yes, he does!" Jace yells out from the back.

"Correction," Magnus says cheerfully, "I don't care."

"I guess I could," Alec says. He looks around, picks out a bistro-style table in the corner. It reminds Magnus of Alec: painted back graceful curves, quite lovely, looks like it got picked up at the Salvation Army.

 "I'm sure Jace doesn't mind me taking ten minutes to talk with a friend."

"Do I have to pay you for it?" Jace asks.

"The state of New York says yes," Magnus calls back as he follows Alec to the table.

Alec looks at him strangely. "Are we friends?"

Magnus picks invisible lint off his atrocious apron. "I certainly guess we could be."

Alec deliberates for a minute, then says, "Cool."

Alec is a man of few words, but Magnus has learned that almost everything he says is important and concisely chosen. Magnus appreciates that; he generally talks enough for two people.

"Yes, Alexander," Magnus says happily. "It is very cool."

   
\----

  
Jace is out back smoking against the brick wall when Magnus takes out the trash.

"Don't tell Clary," he says quickly, holding up his hands in surrender, cigarette clenched between his teeth, a modern-day James Dean with a hopelessly hipster coffee shop and a ridiculous haircut.

"She already knows," Magnus tells him. "You're many things, but subtle isn't one of them."

"How're things with your dude?"

"I assume you mean Alexander?"

"You have any other dudes I should know about?"

Magnus is startled to realize, in fact, he does not have any other dudes. He has been mostly dudeless since about two weeks after meeting Alec. Huh.

"He has a boyfriend."

"Yeah, Clary told me," Jace says, stubbing his cigarette out roughly against the brick and tossing it in the trash. "Sorry about that, man."

The fact that Jace, of all people, looks like he feels sorry for Magnus spells out that Alec having a boyfriend is serious trouble. Magnus is definitely asshole enough to try to steal Alec away, but nothing in word or deed has indicated that Alec is any kind of cheater.

"We're friends," Magnus says and leans against the wall next to Jace.

"Can you really be friends with him, when you..." He trails off, fiddles in his pockets awkwardly. He pops some candy in his mouth, takes out a small sample vial of cologne and sprays his shirt and jacket liberally, tucks it back into his pocket and pulls out some hand lotion that smells like the type Magnus' grandmas used to keep in her drawer of unmentionables.

The problem is, while Magnus was busy trying to get into Alec's pants, he found out he kind of really likes Alec, and not just his sweet caboose, but his taste for wistful, romantic books, his shitty clothes, the way he holds the door open for old ladies, hangs out in the park all alone like a serial killer. These little facts that he's picked up from ten-minute conversations and semi-stalking Alec, all amounts to a pretty incredible guy.

"I'm going to try," Magnus says, and realizes that he means it.

Jace nods. "Clary really know about the smoking?"

 "You come back from your breaks smelling like potpourri. Of course she knows."

 

\---

   
Alec is laughing at a story Magnus is telling him about a customer that comes in twice a day, gets a free empty cup, goes to the condiment bar and fills it with milk, then proceeds to add about half the chocolate powder from the shaker, then spends three hours drinking cup after cup of chocolate milk every day while leafing through their magazines. And then Magnus reenacts his horror one day to see the customer left his number for Magnus written on a stained napkin on the counter.

"I bet that happens a lot," Alec blurts out. Realizing what he said, he blushes furiously, looks away.

"You'd be surprised," Magnus says. A companionable silence falls.

Something's been bothering Magnus and he hasn't had the nerve to ask about until now that they're friends, of a sort. "You know, I once wrote my phone number on your coffee cup."

Alec looks up, startled. "Oh - that? I thought it was the number for Java Jace!!!"

Magnus sits up from where he was slouching in his chair in what he's been told is a very feline and appealing manner. "Why would we handwrite our phone number on every cup?"

Alec shrugs. "Why all the exclamation points?"

"Because I feel really strongly about coffee," Jace yells out.

"He feels really strongly about his name being plastered on everything," Magnus says. "Darling, has no one ever flirted with you before?"

Alec shrugs again. "No - I mean, yes, kind of? My boyfriend - he flirted with me, I guess? He kind of told me we were going on a date and I went?"

Magnus doubts no one has ever flirted with Alec before. The fact that Magnus has been doing everything short of strapping a neon sign to his ass that says, "Here, Alec!" to get Alec to sleep with him and Alec still labors under the impression that no one has ever propositioned him, basically guarantees it.

He grabs Alec's phone and programs his own number in. "Just for coffee emergencies," he says with a wink.

"For coffee emergencies," Alec repeats softly.

Despite his vow to never feel anything more for Alec than friendship, and on occasion, burning lust, Magnus is charmed by pretty much everything about Alec. He tries not to feel hopelessly in love, he really does.

He probably fails.

 

\---

   
On one obnoxiously lovely morning, Alec looks less glorious than usual. He's drawn, sad, dark smudges beneath his eyes. Even his hair, ever wild and unkempt, looks droopy.

 He gives Magnus a tired smile as Magnus slides the Pumpkin Spice Chai Tea Latte across the counter.

 Magnus hurries through the small line until it's cleared, yells to Clary that he's gone for a ten.

He sits opposite Alec. “What's wrong?" he asks immediately.

Alec shakes his head.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me." And he's surprised to find that he means it. He wants to help Alec any way he can.

 “I - my boyfriend,” Alec starts quietly.

This is exactly how all of his dreams start. Alec would talk about how poorly things were going with his no doubt huge and very intimidating boyfriend, while Magnus generously offered his sequined shoulder to cry on. Alec would realize that he was really in love with Magnus and then he'd tumble into Magnus' waiting arms.

Magnus isn’t prone towards introspection, assiduously tries to avoid it in most cases, but in the privacy of his own mind, he can admit he cares for Alec. Cares deeply, maybe, beyond his stunning ass and his pretty mouth, and this is all so fucking new for Magnus, he feels his palms sweat, his heart ratchets up a notch. Oh Jesus, he’s in love. It’s awful.

Alec looks up briefly, lowers his eyes. His dark, sooty eyelashes fan across the tops of his cheeks, cast shadows. Magnus studies Alec carefully, clenches his fists until he can feel his nails bite into his palms, tries not to tremble.

“We’re fighting a lot, things are kind of falling apart, and I don’t - I don’t have anyone around to talk to.”

 Magnus forces his hands open, rubs them against his jeans, then places one hand on top of Alec’s. “You have me,” he says, straightening his spine.

 Alec smiles at him gratefully, relieved. “I - thanks. Really.”

 Magnus feels his heart crumbling, just a bit, as he leans forward. “So tell me more about your boyfriend.”

   
\---

   
Tuesdays, a regular comes in. He's got brown hair, green eyes, wears a leather jacket. Just his type. They flirt harmlessly. Magnus is laughing good-naturedly at his newest atrocious pickup line, when he notices Alec staring from across the room, ever-present phone forgotten in his hand. As soon as Alec realizes he's been noticed, he ducks his head shyly.

Magnus takes off his apron, tells Clary he's taking a ten and joins Alec at his table. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing, it's stilly. It's just, you remind me of someone, I guess."

"Someone you like?" Magnus gazes at him from beneath his eyelashes. He's been told it's very alluring.

"Very much," Alec says with a grin and sets his phone down. "My sister, she's a designer. She's kind of like you, you know, flirty, not that you're--shit, sorry."

"No offense taken," Magnus says. "So tell me more about your sister."

"She lives back in LA with my parents" Alec trails off, grimaces, shakes his head as if clearing bad memories. "Anyway, she's super opinionated, always used to make fun of how I dressed, too." He leans back, a soft smile on his face, eyes shining.

Magnus thinks he would burn down cities to see Alec always look like this. He would wear these horrible aprons everywhere. He would happily recite the entire menu of 87,000 drinks for every customer who came in asking, “Well, what do you have to drink?”

“She sounds great,” Magnus says. “You two seem close.”

 The smiles slide off Alec's face like a sunset in winter. "We used to be."

"Oh?" Magnus prompts, mentally kicking himself.  

"She didn't really approve of Raj." He stirs his drink, mixing the whipped cream into the coffee, and frowning at the muddy mess. "When I left home, she told me I was making a mistake, she was so angry." He shrugs, and the motion looks incredibly sad. "I haven't spoken with her since our last argument, and now...it's been so long, I don't know what to say."

He nudges Alec's phone towards him. "Why don't you start with hello?"

   
\----

 

At home, Magnus surveys the stack of frozen meals sadly. He's a decent cook, but it's too pathetic cooking for one person and cooking for a hookup just begs for them to the wrong idea. He's gravitated to frozen single-serve meals and takeout like he does everything else - lazily and with style.

He could go out, get hammered, pick up a warm body for the night, but for some reason, the thought just doesn't appeal. He closes the freezer, opens the refridgerator, sees leftover Chinese takeout, and sniffs the carton. Seems okay. He takes it back to the couch and eats it cold while watching SVU re-runs. Going out every night is too expensive and he has the early shift tomorrow morning. Chairman Meow gratefully curls up in his lap.

This must feel, Magnus thinks, like what being a responsible adult feels like. It's incredibly boring and giving him slight indigestion.

He grabs his phone, texts Alec: _SVU rerun marathon kind of boring, but Mariska Hargitay so sexy. Might have to run away with her._

A minute later, his phone chirps with an incoming message. Magnus grins when he sees Alec's name pop up.

Alec: _I am awash with jealousy._

Magnus settles in and texts a reply.

   
\---

   
He gets up early, dresses in his most fabulous athleisure, and goes for a jog. You don't want to be that guy at the club who everyone can tell used to be hot. Admittedly, it has become a lot more effort to make himself presentable now than it was five years ago.

It is also easier to get up when you go to bed relatively early after spending the night texting an unspeakably hot friend rather than trying to break the world record for imbibing flaming sambucas.  
As he runs, hangover-free and feeling very virtuous, he thinks of Alec. What his father might think of him.

Asmodeus would hate him, as he hated most people who were not useful to him in some way. It wasn't even that he was bisexual that had bothered his father, more his aimlessness. He did not want to take over his father's business, had dropped out of business school and hightailed it to the glamorous life of working as a barista in New York. At the time, he had not thought he was cut out to live a passionless life, but isn't that what he's doing now?

What does he have, really? A handful of one night stands, a few friends who he sees less and less because they're all moving on with their lives, a small grouchy tabby cat. His last relationship ended over five years ago because she thought he had no ambition and he was tired of being used and manipulated. It's not nothing, but it's not like he's typing up Christmas newsletters each year, either.

What does he want?

Asmodeus had cut him off. Left him with what was left in his trust fund, not a meager amount, but not enough that he was out buying gold-plated jockstraps. It had been enough to supplement his income, pay for a slightly extravagant apartment, cover charges for impossibly posh clubs and exorbitant drinks with pretentious names.

Magnus had never worked for anything the way that pretty much everyone else in his life had. He had never wanted anything that badly.

Maybe Alexander could be that thing.

 

\---

   
Alec's drumming his finger lightly against the table when Magnus joins him. His Cinnamon Roll Frappuccino sits in front of him, untouched, half melted with a pool of condensation on the table. Magnus is immediately wary. Alec's not prone to nervous ticks, actually has a startling lack of them for a pretty high-strung guy.

"What's up?"

"I talked to Izzy."

Magnus winces internally. "Your sister?"

Alec nods, won't meet Magnus' eyes.

"That bad, huh?" He forces himself not to fidget; he sometimes wishes he had an ounce of Alec's self-discipline. It feels like he's always moving, always talking. It's not until he's at home and is exhausted, muscles sore, that he realizes how much of both he seems to do.

"No, it was-" he clears his throat, looks at Magnus. "She cried." He looks a little like he wants to cry himself.  
Magnus is still desperately unsure of whether this is good news or bad, but he's found it's generally best to let Alec set his own pace. He'll get to the point -- eventually.

"My sister, she never cries. And she cried over the phone, told me how sorry she was, how much she misses me." Alec seems to power down, his hand stops, he stays perfectly still. "I told her things weren't going well with Raj and she -- she wants me to come home." His eyes rake over Magnus, searching. For what, Magnus doesn't know.

Magnus needs to get out of here, needs some air. He needs time to _think_.

"Well, do you have any reason to stay?" he asks, stupidly.

Alec slumps in his chair. "No, I guess not."

   
\---

 

Alec: _Stopped by the coffee shop, you weren't there. Had to drink purple coffee????_

Magnus winces in sympathy. Fucking Jace.

Magnus: _Aw, missed me, huh?_

He wonders if the slightly flirty tone was too much, if he's finally crossed some kind of invisible line they've been toeing the past few months.

Nothing, and then fifteen minutes later: Can I come over?

Magnus takes a deep, steadying breath, then texts his address.

He sets down his phone, heart hammering in his chest. Sternly tells himself that Alec's not coming over to fulfill every dirty fantasy Magnus has ever had about him, and there have been many: Alec showing up cold and soaked to the bone from rain, and Magnus has to take off his clothes and warm him up-

Alec loses all his clothes to muggers and Magnus has to get him into bed and warm him up-

Alec trips and his pants fall off and Magnus has to warm him up-

No, that last one doesn't make sense. Chairman Meow looks vaguely disgusted where he's perched on the back of the couch. "Mind you own business," he hisses at his cat and starts shoving dirty clothes under the couch.

Twenty-five minutes later, there's a knock on the door.

Magnus opens the door, knows the likelihood of Alec being naked is fairly low, but he can't help the wash of disappointment when Alec is in fact, wearing all of his clothes. Then he gets a good look at Alec's face, miserable and exhausted, and Magnus forgets everything else.

"What's going on?" he asks, ushering Alec in the apartment and toward the couch.

"Raj is - we're not doing great. He's gotten suspicious. He thinks I'm seeing someone else."

Magnus doesn't point out that Alec is actually sitting in another man's apartment, another man, who is - not that Alec is even remotely aware of it - kind of crazy about him.

As if reading his mind, Alec looks up, pins Magnus in place with his gaze. "It's not just you. Everywhere I go, everything I do, he always thinks I'm cheating on him. The only safe places for me are the grocery store, the park and until tonight, your coffee shop."

Magnus thinks, tries to choose his words carefully. "That doesn't sound healthy, Alexander."

Alec laughs humorlessly. "I know."

"Then why are you with him?"

"I don't have a job, he doesn't want me to get one. I don't have any friends or family." He's breathing hard, great gulping hysterical breaths. "I couldn't leave him if I tried."

"Hey, hey," Magnus says and sits down next to him, rubs a reassuring hand across his shoulders. "Breathe in through your nose, out your mouth. You're okay now."

"Am I?" Alec asks miserably. Alec's phone dings with a text message. Alec digs it out of his pocket, makes a disgusted face as he reads the message, then turns the phone off. "I don't think I can take this anymore."

"What can I do for you, Alexander?"

 "You got any alcohol?"

"Always," Magnus says.

   
\----

  
They drink, watch shitty TV movies, drink some more. In the back of his mind, Magnus knows this is a mistake, but he ruthlessly shuts it off, watches the glow of the TV wash across Alec's face, the heat of his body next to him, closer than they've ever been at the coffee shop. His head is swimming and he honestly can't say if it's the alcohol or if he's drunk on Alec's proximity.

Alec's drooping in slow motion, eyes blinking languidly. At some point, he slumped across the couch, resting his head against Magnus' shoulder. The credits roll.

 After a few moments, Alec says, "I should get going."

Magnus doesn't say anything, looks down at Alec just as Alec tilts his head up and they're so close, his can feel Alec's breath against his lips, warm and whisky-sour. It's easy to lean down, cross that last couple of inches between them. And then they're kissing, sleepy and unhurried and Magnus could kiss Alec like this every morning, every night, and only this - light pressure, Alec's dry chapped lips pressed against his so sweetly and Magnus could live his life happily if nothing else good ever happened to him but this. They pull away and Alec's eyes are wide. He touches his lips.

"Stay the night," Magnus says, heart pounding so loud he's sure Alec can hear it. Alec looks at his lips, and his eyes darken.  
Alec surges back up, kisses him, open-mouthed, wet and hot, eager and artless.

It's about the sexiest kiss he's ever had, and he's sampled enough of the population to know.

Magnus barely recognizes the sound that slips past his lips. It's low, dark and aching. He grabs a fistful of Alec's hair, tugs him down closer, hooks another hand in the waist of Alec's pants, fingers brushing against the hard outline of Alec's cock.

Alec groans, breaks off the kiss. He stands and Magnus follows him up.

"Clothes off," he says and Alec kicks off his shoes, his socks. He pulls his shirt over his head and Magnus has to take a minute to appreciate the hard planes of Alec's body, the graceful swoop of his bare shoulders. Magnus unbuttons his shirt, kicks off his pants, watches as Alec slides out of jeans until he's standing in Magnus' apartment in nothing but black boxers, and Magnus has tons of things, beautiful things he's picked up traveling, but nothing seems as special as the man standing in front of him.

He reaches for Alexander and they kiss and stumble towards the bed until Alec falls back, landing among Magnus' pillows, legs bent over the edge. He looks even better, spread out for Magnus. Magnus slides down low in-between Alec's knees and Alec makes a pained surprised sound as Magnus mouths at his cock beneath thin cotton fabric. He licks a stripe up the length of his dick, looking up at Alec while he does, knowing what an obscene picture it must make. His hair is wrecked, eyeliner smudged. He grabs Alec's boxers pulls them down while mouthing at every new inch of pale flesh revealed. He wants to see all of Alec, down to the bare bones of him. He's going to destroy him.

Alec kicks his boxers off and Magnus doesn't waste any time, tongues the slit, then sucks it into his mouth, one hand holding his cock at the base while resting his other hand on the sharp cut of Alec's hip, holding Alec down where he's twisting and gasping beneath him. Magnus pulls off with a wet pop and crawls up the bed next to Alec, where he's staring at the ceiling with blown pupils, chest heaving.

"What do you want to do? I'm up for anything," Magnus says, watching Alec's dick twitch.

He looks over at Magnus as if seeing him for the first time. "I want everything," Alec says, voice hoarse. He already sounds fucked out.

"Good answer." Magnus rolls over, grabs lube and condoms out of his bedside drawer, hands them to Alec so he can decide. Magnus regularly switches according to his general whims and he'll take Alec any way he can have him.

Alec puts them on the bed next to him and rolls over, tugs one leg up, knee almost touching his chest and Magnus dies a little. "Like this," he says quietly, sounding a little embarrassed.

"Whatever you wish, Alexander." Magnus runs a hand down the notches of Alec's spine, watching the muscles bunch and jump under his hand, fascinated. He palms his ass, runs a finger up his crease, the soft pucker of skin, just to see Alec jump a little. "You're so good for me," Magnus says. Alec moans a little and Magnus looks up, surprised. "You're the best, Alexander." Alec throws his head back, pants in the cool air. Magnus grins, pours a little lube on his fingers, trails them back to Alec's ass, leaving gleaming trails in their absence.

"What're you doing?" Alec asks curiously.

"I'm prepping you, darling," Magnus says, stops, alarmed. "You have done this before?"

Alec holds very still. "A few times, but Raj and I were always drunk and he just sort of--" He makes a vague hand gesture.

Magnus has to silently count to ten before he trusts himself not to yell. "He didn't prep you at all?"

"I mean, I guess? Not like -" he waves in Magnus' general direction. He seems afraid to look at him, as if he knows he's saying something kind of terrible but doesn't know a better way to put it. He adds, "It feels good after a while if you're drunk enough."

Which does not make Magnus feel better.

Mostly, it makes him feel sad, and a touch uneasy, but he shoves it down and comes to a decision. "Roll over."

Alec looks ashamed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up-"

"No," Magnus interrupts. "I just like it better this way."

Alec's face clears instantly like clouds parting for sunshine on an overcast day. He flashes Magnus his small shy smile, his lower lip trembles a little. "Yeah, okay."

Alec bends his legs, letting Magnus settle between them as Magnus peppers his faces with kisses, over his eyes, his cheeks, his chin, his swollen lips, and Alec accepts them, leans into them like he's starved for touch.

Magnus reaches down and slides a finger into Alec's ass until he gets no resistance, then two, then three, until Alec starts pushing back, fucking himself on Magnus fingers, sighing softly. He pulls back to watch Alec squirm, his chest heave with hitching short, punched-out breaths.

"Ready?"

"Yeah,' Alec says, eyes closed, brow furrowed.

Magnus grabs a condom, tears it open and rolls it over his weeping cock. He settles back down and runs his cock down Alec's crease, letting it catch on his asshole.

"Now, God, please-" Alec whines.

Magnus pushes in as Alec pants beneath him. He goes slowly, until he's balls-deep, where Alec is all clenching pressure and heat around him.

"Oh fuck," Alec gasps. "Oh fuck, you're inside me--"

Magnus pauses, shakes with the effort it takes to hold still while Alec adjusts. "You feel so good, baby," he croons into Alec's neck. "Perfect, you're so tight, just made for my cock." He mumbles a string of half-incoherent filth and praise while barely registering anything but the place where they're connected, where he's buried in Alec's ass, stretched tight to accommodate him.

"Move, Magnus, _Jesus_ \--"

Magnus pulls back, fucks into Alec's body over and over again, sweat gathering at his temples and sliding into his eyes. He bites into the tender flesh of Alec's shoulder, hears Alec hiss, and runs his tongue over it a few times to soothe the reddened skin and presses a soft, apologetic kiss there.

He wraps a hand around Alec’s shoulders, pulls him down while he fucks him up the bed, sheets a tangled mess around them.

He feels his release coil up in his low in his belly, tight and growing, as Alec's legs shake around him. He loses his rhythm, starts fucking into Alec wildly, Alec grunting with each thrust. He releases Alec's shoulders, reaches a hand to fumble with Alec’s cock, strokes once, twice, sees Alec throw his head back, back arched, like he's coming so hard it's painful. His ass clenches even harder around Magnus' cock, punches an orgasm out of Magnus that he feels down to his toes. His mouth is open and he's gasping like he's come to the end of a marathon, buried in Alec as far as he can go, moment stretching on until he collapses on top of Alec, cheek to chest where he can hear Alec's heartbeat beneath his ear, fast and steady. He clumsily grabs for his hand, laces their fingers together.

He dozes off for a bit until he becomes aware of Alec's chest hitching, small gasping breaths like tiny sobs.

"Alec?" Magnus asks, shooting up, concerned.

"I didn't know," Alec says, chest hitching. "I didn't know it could be like this."

If asked, Magnus would say he's been in love many times, and probably loved Camille the best, had thrown the word around more than he cared to admit. But the depth of his feelings for those people and what he feels for Alec, in this moment, pales in comparison. Alec may not have known sex could feel like this, but Magnus didn't know _he_ could.

He loves Alec. Not his ass or his lips or his eyes, but he knows the truth of him and loves it all.

Magnus kisses Alec then, his mouth, his nose, the corner of eyes, wet with salty tears. He can't say it yet, Alec isn't ready to hear it, may never be, but Magnus can say it with every kiss across his skin, again and again and again.

They forgot to pull the curtains. It wouldn't be the first show his neighbors have gotten. Outside, the season has finally changed, the friendly, mellow colors of autumn giving way to the harsher lines of winter. He'd heard it earlier on the news but hadn't believed it until now, confronted with a moody silver-gray sky. A storm is brewing.

He pulls Alec to him tighter.

   
\----

   
The sun shines across the floor, a bright wedge of color that bathes Alec's shoulders, the tips of his eyelashes, in a hazy yellow-pink.

Alec's eyes flutter once, then open. "I'm not a cheater," he says. He sighs, rolls over, drags a hand through his hair messily.  
Magnus doesn't point out that technically, Alec is, and it's Magnus' fault. He does not mind being a cheater, had gleefully pursued it at one point, but finds that he doesn't much care for Alec to have that title.

"I have to break up with Raj."

Magnus tries not to get too excited. "We can pretend like this never happened," he says cautiously. He doesn't add that he'll have to leave his job, the state, the country, everything that could possibly remind him of Alec.

Alec rolls over to look at Magnus. "No, I don't -- is that what you want?"

"No," Magnus says simply.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Alec's mouth. "Okay. I'll need to get a job, pack my stuff. I've got some cash, I can find a place to stay--"

Magnus holds up a hand. "Of course you'll stay here until you get on your feet.

"Magnus, I can't ask--"

"You're not asking, I'm offering. Just say yes."

"Yes," Alec says with a smile.

"Do you want me to come with you tonight?"

"No, there'll be hell to pay, but I have to tell him alone. I owe him that much at least."

Magnus secretly thinks Raj sounds like a massive tool that doesn't really deserve much as far as Alec is concerned, but he isn't Magnus' terrible boyfriend to deal with. They get dressed, eat a quick breakfast, and Magnus kisses Alec at the door and playfully grabs his ass just to see Alec laugh as he shuts the door behind him.

He should have gone with Alec.

   
\----

   
He doesn't hear from Alec all day, but he’s not really worried yet. It’ll take time to explain to Raj and pack up his stuff. Magnus will just see him back at his apartment later. He flirts outrageously with all the customers and even Simon comments on his good mood.

"Somebody got laid last night," Jace observes.

Magnus may be whistling. He's terrible at it, but that's never stopped him before.

"Magnus gets laid every night," Simon says with a snort. He looks at Magnus more closely. "Wait, did you sleep with Hot Coffee Guy?"

"How did you hear about him?" Magnus demands.

"Everybody knows about Hot Coffee Guy and how cute you two are together."

"Who's everybody?"

"All of us, the customers, the bodega across the street--"

"You lie," Magnus interrupts him and looks around.

At the far end of the counter, the lady with the espresso nods at him, salutes. "You guys are adorable," she says and wanders out the front door.

"Told you," Simon says.

Magnus doesn't know whether to be flattered of humiliated that everyone saw him pining over Alec for months, but he has Alec now, so he settles on what comes most natural: unbearably smug. "Alexander is coming over tonight for round two." Jace mouths _Hot Coffee Guy_ at Simon, who looks confused.

"Ah, well done you," Simon says.

   
\---

  
His phone rings at eight. He's been home for hours, even after stopping for some food, nothing overly extravagant, just salad, steaks, mid-range champagne. He wants their first official night together to be special. He also picked up an extra large box of condoms because he's romantic, but he's not a saint or anything.

He picks up the phone, hears Alec's voice, quiet and panicked. "Magnus?"

"What's wrong?"

"I've really fucked up this time."

"Alexander, are you okay?" Magnus demands.

Over the phone, Magnus hears something crash, a door slam. "I'm - this isn't, I don't know what to do-" Alec says, panicky gasping.

"Alexander, get out of there," Magnus says, heart in his throat.

"I just - Magnus, I cheated on him, what did I think was going to happen? Jesus, I'm so fucking stupid."

Magnus can't help the growing sense of terror he feels washing over him like a wave cresting before it breaks on the shore.

"Oh, god, oh god," Alec pants miserably over the phone. "What did I think -- I deserve this."

"Call the police," Magnus begs. "Fuck it, give me your address, I'll call for you."

But Alec isn't listening. He hears a door open, another crash, and then nothing at all.

Magnus numbly stares down at his phone, the flashing red numbers indicating a disconnected call.

His body weighs a million pounds. He's rooted to the floor, stuck in this position of horror, replaying the conversation he just had over and over in his head.

 

\----

 

He doesn't hear from Alec.

Magnus somehow manages to go to work, stumble through a shift. He gets home, eats mechanically while staring at the blank TV.

He checks his messages, goes to bed.

   
\----

 

He has the day off.

Magnus paces the length of his apartment while chairman meow watches impassively, tail swishing. "I should just go, I should check on him," he tells Chairman Meow.  
Chairman Meow continues to look unimpressed.

He has a vague idea where Alec lives, could go door to door and ask, is probably going to get his ass kicked by Alec's boyfriend, but he has to do something.

He's winding his favorite magenta scarf around his neck when he gets a text from Alec, _Central Park 2 hrs?_

He takes a deep breath, says a quick prayer, sits down on shaky legs, and texts back: _YES_

 

\---

   
He sees Alec from the back at first: A remote dark shape against the gunmetal gray sky. Magnus wonder if he looked so lonely the first time around and if Magnus just missed it, saw what he wanted to, a beautiful fantasy superimposed over something much darker. It's so much like the first time he saw him in the park, Magnus has to remind himself he's allowed to touch Alec now. Allowed to hold him.

"Alexander."

Alec turns to him and Magnus has to catch his breath. It's horrible. His bottom lip, which Manus tenderly kissed just couple days ago is split, angry purpling bruises mark his neck, the high, proud arch of his cheekbones. His left eye is swollen shut. His shoulders, wide and strong, are rounded, hunched in defeat.

"It's not as bad as it--" Alec starts, touching his cheek self-consciously.

"Alexander, stop," Magnus interrupts and closes his eyes against the tears threatening to fall. "Did you call the police?"

"Magnus," Alec says softly, "Raj is a cop. People in our building have called the police before, but it doesn't do any good."

Magnus didn't actually think his heart could shatter anymore, but at the casual admission that this has happened before, maybe many times, Magnus’s heart is ground to dust, pieces so small he may never be able to properly put them back together. How had he not known?

"It's getting worse. He won't let me leave. I tried once before, but it was never this bad. Just threats about how he'd find me wherever I went, make me sorry. I thought it was just talk. He's always been ...passionate. Impulsive."

Every new bit of information scares Magnus even more. It's too dangerous for Alec to leave Raj, but Alec can't stay. Alec's shoulders slump even more with this admission. Magnus had not thought it possible, but Alec gets even smaller, shrinks before Magnus' very eyes. How long before Alec disappears completely?

Magnus comes to a decision. "Call your sister," Magnus says, "go back to California."

"Magnus, I just started talking to her again, I can't just show up on her doorstep and expect to move in with her--"

"She'll take you in." Magnus knows with a solid certainty that Isabelle, strong and outrageous Izzy, who cried when her big brother called, will be glad to. "Call her, go to California."

"Magnus," Alec says with a pained smile, then grimaces as it pulls against his split lip. He licks his lips nervously. "You're here--"

"Yeah, and so is Raj."

Alec flinches at the name, stays silent.

"You don't have a job, you don't have much money, and your whole family lives across the US," Magnus continues, throwing Alec's reasons back in his face. He hates doing it, feels absolutely gutted, but Alec needs to leave.

Magnus would, if it were truly possible, permanently move Alec into his apartment tonight. He would work double shifts, get a second job in a heartbeat if it meant he could come home to Alec every night. But Alec has been through too much, and keeping Alec locked away in his apartment so his ex-boyfriend won't find him, isn't any kind of life at all.

Magnus desperately wants Alec to stay. And he knows if he asked, Alec would, because Alec is, has always been, a much better person than Magnus. Alec would give up his chance at safety to give Magnus what he needs at the expense of himself, and Manus cannot, no matter how much he wants, ask Alec to do that.

Magnus supposes this is what love is: wanting what's best for other people, even if it kind of breaks your own heart. It fucking sucks.

"You need to go home."

Alec turns, wipes his eyes on his sleeve. The movement is so childlike, it feels as if Magnus' chest might break open.

"Yeah," he says, sniffling, "okay."

"Where is Raj?"

"He's working a swing shift today. He won't be home until later."

"Go back, pack your stuff. Leave your phone. I'll get you a pre-pay on my way home. Meet me at the airport in an hour. Do you have cash for a taxi?"

"Yeah."

He leans his forehead against Alec's, close enough that he can feel Alec's warm breath ghosting across his face. He could kiss Alec, but then he wouldn't trust himself to be able to let Alec go after.  
"Go home, Alexander," Magnus says again, breath hitching. He closes his eyes to stave off the tears threatening to fall. He mentally adds, and be safe. Please, God, be safe and finally, be _free_.

   
\----

   
He buys a phone at a bodega, gets home and jumps on the computer, books the first flight out of New York to California. There's a thousand layovers and it's only coach, but it still costs him a decent chunk of his paycheck. It doesn't matter. Magnus would empty out his checking, savings, and trust fund so that Alec could sleep safely at night.

Outside, it's beginning to snow, big fluffy flakes that'll soon cover everything. By tomorrow morning, no one will be able to tell Alec was ever here at all.

   
\---

  
He rides with Alec to the airport, snow swirling past the windows in random, dizzying patterns. Inside the cab, it's dark and silent. Bright lights flash past the windows and the heat vents blast warm air. In his hand, he clutches Alec's so hard that Alec's knuckles must be grinding together, but he doesn't complain.

If Magnus closes his eyes, he can almost imagine they're a young couple in love, about to go on a date, an evening of possibilities stretching out before them. The sick roiling in his gut is anticipation. He would take Alexander somewhere nice, and Alec would be able to wear a suit, comb his hair carefully, and Magnus would be stunned that this beautiful man agreed to go out with him.

They might go out for drinks later, maybe make out a little like teenagers. And Magnus would drop him off at his doorstep, wouldn't even try to go in, because he likes Alec, can see this is going somewhere and wants to stretch it out, live in this sweet moment forever: on this perfect knife edge of falling in love, where only a sweep of Alexander's eyelashes or a quick smile is enough to push him over the edge.

Magnus blinks, and he's back in the car, taking Alec to the airport so Alec can fly thousands of miles away from him and never come back.

"Here's your stop," the cab driver announces.

It's too soon. They haven't had enough time.

 "Magnus," Alec says, leaning close. "We have to go."

Magnus nods jerkily. He reaches into his pocket and digs out some cash. "I'll pay," Alec says.

"No, Alexander, keep your money. You'll need it."

"No, really--"

He turns to Alec. "Let me do this for you, at least."

 "Thank you," Alec says, bites his lip, says in a rush, "I don't have to leave."

"Yes, you do." He pays the driver, gets out, leaves Alec in the taxi, looking out after him. He grabs Alec's suitcase from the trunk. He only packed the one, afraid Raj would get home before he left. His phone is off, the sim card smashed.

He doesn't have any way to contact Magnus and Magnus doesn't have any way to contact him.

Alec gets out, follows him silently into the airport. Around them, happy families are rushing to their various destinations. Some are laughing, some seem tired, but all of them look happy together. Magnus takes Alec all the way to the gate, and it's as far as he can go.

"So, this is it," Alec says.

"I wish you all the best, Alexander," Magnus says, and it's stupid and trite and not nearly enough, but it's all he can squeeze past the lump in his throat.

"You, too, Magnus," Alec says, lowering his eyes.

Magnus turns and walks away.

   
\---

   
He gets all the way to the front doors and turns around. Wading back through the crowd, he retraces his steps until he sees Alec from behind. Alec's easy to spot, Magnus would know him anywhere. He grabs Alec's hand and Alec turns around startled. "Magnus?"

"I love you," Magnus says in a rush, once, before pressing a kiss to Alec's surprised mouth. "You can forget everything else, but remember this, Alexander, I love you and I always will," he says, pressing the words into his mouth, and slips his phone number, hastily scrawled on the back of a crumpled receipt into Alec's coat pocket. He forces himself to go, leaving Alec behind, staring after him, holding his boarding pass in a white-knuckled grip.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to (the three) people reading and commenting. This is the end!

 

  **"The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why."**

**\- Often accredited to Mark Twain, but more likely by Minister Ernest T. Campbell and beautifully summarized by the renowned wordsmith, Steve Harvey.**

 

 

 

Magnus doesn't hear from Alec.

He tosses and turns at night, giving up at 3 am and gets dressed, takes the 4 train to Java Jace!!!

He needs coffee. He doesn't know where to start. The problem with the game he plays with Clary is, he doesn't have actually have a favorite.

He gets to Java Jace!!! and makes a beeline for the refrigerator, grabs cream and milk. Magnus steams milk, he whips, he froths, he makes every goddamn drink on the menu and tastes, tastes, tastes.

When Clary arrives, she takes in the tables, covered with half-melted drinks and says, "Are you having a nervous breakdown?"

"I-" Magnus says, "probably. But I lied, you know."

"You're not having a coffee-induced nervous breakdown?"

"Yes, no, I mean, I lied about having a signature drink. I don't know what I like."

"Ah."

"I don't have a favorite _anything_!" He buries his face in his hands. "What the fuck is wrong with me, Clary?"

"Nothing at all, Magnus," she says, joining him behind the counter. She surveys the tables. "What have you made so far?"

"All the iced and frozen drinks on the left side of the menu," he says miserably. He liked them all okay, but nothing was great.

"Then I'll start on the right," she says, pouring some milk.

  
\----

 

"I don't think I'll sleep for a month," Magnus groans.

Clary yawns next to him. "Can't say the same. I'm going to brew some more coffee."

She comes back a few minutes later with a steaming cup.

Magnus steals her drink, takes a sip. "Goddamn," he says, looking at the cup again. "Has our coffee always been this good?"

"Yeah, Jace gets it from this supplier that hand roasts them, and oh, you know the spiel."

"I don't think I've ever tasted it plain before."

"Well, why would you?" Clary asks with a tired smile. "With 87,000 other options?"

Magnus chuckles. "How's your wedding planning going?"

Clary throws her hands up. "Oh, you know, Jace thinks we should have pigs in a blanket, Simon wants quinoa, my mom thinks oysters are awfully romantic and between the three of them, I think they've decided to compromise and serve them all."

He doesn't know. He doesn't know because he hasn't asked because he's been a lousy friend. "I'm not sure if indigestion or food poisoning seems more likely."

"Why not both?" She laughs little hysterically.

"Do you want some help?"

Clary raises an eyebrow. "You, a wedding planner?"

"A wedding's just a party, isn't it? Who knows parties better than me?” Magnus leans over the table, catches Clary's eye. "I would be glad to help you."

Clary beams. "Thanks, Magnus." She snatches her cup back, then looks down in surprise. "You've finished it all."

"Have I?" He takes the empty cup back.

"You don't ever take more than a few sips."

He sits back, surprised. "I didn't - I can't believe I never even thought to try it plain." He looks down at the cup wonderingly. "It was so good, I just kept drinking and-" To his horror, he feels his eyes sting.

"Magnus-" Clary says.

"I think," Magnus says and closes his eyes, clutches his coffee cup. "I think it's my favorite."

 

\----

 

Clary, who Magnus had expected to pick something traditional, settles on a pale gold wedding dress with bright metallic embellishments because she lives to defy Magnus' expectations.

Magnus does her makeup, chooses green to compliment her hair and a pop of gold in the inner corners of her eyes to tie into her dress. He's setting her foundation when she grabs his hand. They haven't talked much lately and when they do, Magnus doesn't have much to say. He's gone with her to choose food, a cake, a dress, but everything exhausts him. It's an effort just to get out of bed every morning.

"I know you miss him," Clary says softly, eyes huge and sad in her petite face.

It's such a simple statement, so innocent, but it doesn't begin to cover the depth of hurt he feels. He misses Alec with an ache he feels down to his bones. He feels like he's aged twenty years overnight. Logically, he knows it will not always hurt this much, he will wake up one day and the pain of missing Alec will be no more than a bruise, an echo of pain that once stole his breath. But that day is not today.

He shakes his head. He can't talk about it yet.

He feels small arms circle him and Clary is pressed against his side, fiercely hugging him. He still has people, friends that are maybe too good for him, that he doesn't deserve, but stick by him anyway. It's a good thing to know.

 

\----

 

Their wedding is small, intimate, just a few close friends and family. They get married in a small chapel with vows they wrote themselves.

And because Jace and Clary are hopelessly bourgeois, the party afterward is in the coffee shop, closed down for the day. Magnus at least got Jace to take down all the flags.

It's ridiculous and beautiful, and if Magnus tears up - just a little - wisely, no one says anything.

 

\----

 

On Catarina's first night back in New York, they meet up for drinks at one of her favorite bars, The Wayland. She'd dropped off her bags at Ragnor's, who couldn't come out tonight because he's teaching an evening class at the community college and also hates joy. Magnus had offered for her to stay at his apartment, but Ragnor won by default of having a valuable extra bedroom.

"It's been a while, old friend," Catarina says, joining him at the bar. "What's new on this side of the world?"

"I'm thinking about going back to school."

A surprised silence follows, then Catarina says warmly, "I think that's a fabulous idea. Are you going back to finish your business degree? Or something else?"

He feels stupid for even bringing it up, like Catarina will laugh at him for even daring to think about it, but she's always been incredibly supportive, even when she didn't necessarily agree with his decisions.

"What about fashion design?"

"You're always very fashionable." Catarina agrees readily.

"No, I mean, a designer, me, college-" He's so nervous, he's just blurting out random words loosely related to each other. It's like career tourettes.

Catarina leans over, touches his shoulder like she does for her patients. "It's perfect."

Magnus feels more relieved than he cares to admit. "I just--I have to do something. I can't sit around and miss him all the time." He doesn't need to say who he's talking about, she already knows.

She starts to speak, stops, hesitates, then starts again, "What about you, Magnus?"

"What about me?"

She says slowly, as if she's picking her words carefully, "I know you miss him, but life does go on, you know? I think fashion design is a wonderful fit for you, but only if it's something you're doing for yourself."

He hates to hear it, but it's a valid point. He twists his fingers together in his lap. Life goes on, he thinks, even without Alec. He can't stay at Java Jace!!! forever, he can't go out and party every night. He needs something of substance.

For the first time in a long time, he wants a life of purpose.

Magnus knows, suddenly, that he can do it. That he can have this one thing he sets his mind to, even if he can't have anything else, even if no one else besides Catarina believes in him.

But then again, maybe no one has ever had faith in him because he's never had faith in himself.

 

\----

 

He doesn't hear from Alec.

Magnus doesn't have Alec's number, but he wouldn't call even if he did. It has to be Alec's choice whether he comes back to him or not. And New York, and Magnus himself, is inextricably linked to one of the worst times in Alec's life. He may never be able to get past that, and Magnus has no choice but to accept it. Alec has had enough people telling him what to do and forcing choices on him. He has to decide what to do with his life; he deserves that much, at least.

Still, he misses Alec with an ache that is sharp, always present. He sees him in every tall, dark-haired guy he passes. His fingers itch to make him coffee, call him up, tell him all about the latest atrocious customer that demands to be served a Starbucks drink at Java Jace!!! just to see Alec laugh softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. But he's not here and Magnus is.

It's time to move on.

He has an appointment with a college advisor at the New York School of Design, who'll walk him through him registering, which course credits will transfer and what classes he needs to take to graduate.

He stands outside the imposing building and says a small prayer for luck, then takes a deep breath and goes in.

 

\----

 

Magnus doesn't care for California. Too many happy orange people. He stops by Starbucks, gets a double shot of espresso and makes a face. He prefers his espresso like New York, that is to say, gritty with a hint of misery.

He graduated three years ago and is busy helping a designer showing in LA Fashion week .

He's just an assistant now, but he's working on his first collection for his own label. He's been traveling, drumming up investors for the better part of two years. Everything in his life is coming together.

But he made sure to come to LA for fashion week.

Of course, he tells Clary it has nothing to do with the fact that Isabelle Lightwood is based out of LA and is showing for the first time along with big names like Rebecca Minkoff and Rachel Comey. It's practically unheard of for a fairly new designer. She's the talk of the fashion world.

In the privacy of his own mind, at least, he can admit that he's not really here for coffee or fashion.

   
\----

 

He sees Alec from behind, knows it's him like a punch to the gut. He really would recognize that man anywhere.

Alec, who he can see in profile now, has a light tan and shoulders held straight, confident, filled out and well-built. Magnus had not known it at the time, can only see it in retrospect when faced with this newer version of Alec, who's laughing with his head thrown back, that Alec in New York had been a shadow of himself. Had been thin, rundown, unhappy, and always, always scared.

He should go. Alec is fine. He'd wanted to know and now he has his answer. He pushes blindly through the backstage chaos, nearly tripping over a silver gown in his haste. He stumbles, before an arm snakes out, steadying him. He turns to thank-

Alec, holding his arm and looking grim, line etched between his eyebrows. That's new, too.

"I- thank you."

"Were you really just going to leave?"

Magnus tries to smile, feels his face screw up in misery instead. "You looked busy."

Alec looks around. "I'm not busy now. Want to get out of here?"

Magnus nods. He does. Alec is still holding his arm.

 

\----

 

They have their pick of eateries in the Fashion District, all of them within walking distance. He lets Alec pick a small bistro with ambient lighting and small tables, giving them a bit of privacy. It's understated and elegant, not like Alec at all, but then he barely knows this handsome stranger in his sharp suit and buffed nails.

Alec orders a drink, but Magnus sticks to sparkling water. He gave up drinking a couple years back when he realized he didn't much care for how often he was reaching for alcohol to deal with even minor setbacks.

Their drinks are delivered and the server gives them a few minutes to look over the menu. Alec barely glances over it, sighs, sets it down.

"Come here a lot?"

Alec’s mouth twitches. "Not my usual scene, but I thought you'd like this place."

"It's nice." Magnus leans forward. "But I want to see what you like."

Alec bites his bottom lip for a second, runs his hands through his perfectly coiffed hair, utterly destroying it, and suddenly, Magnus is able to breathe again. "My favorite place has these beef burritos the size of two fists."

Magnus grins. "I never say no to fistfuls of meat."

Alec laughs. "Okay, but like, seriously there's plastic on the seats."

"How deliciously retro." Magnus stands, gestures to Alec. "Lead the way."

Along the walk, Alec shrugs off his coat, loosens his tie, undoes the tops buttons of his crisp blue shirt. "This place is great, has one dollar taco Tuesdays. Izzy and I come here all the time when we can get our schedules to line up." He holds the door open to Magnus.

There is, indeed, plastic on the chairs and you practically have to climb over one table to get to the next. But it's bright, cheerful, and smells amazing. The clientele is a strange mix of models and construction workers.

The menus are on lit screens behind the registers. Alec flashes the cashier a grin, orders the Taco Fajitas Combo, turns to Magnus. "Everything's good here, can't go wrong."

"I'll have you're having."

Alec tells her to double it, takes their drinks to an empty table near the back. Alec rolls up his sleeves, taps his fingers against the table.

"Never thought I'd see you in a suit."

Alec flushes. "I have to wear them for my job, but uh, Izzy mostly picks them out for me." He fiddles with his tie. It looks like Zegna to Magnus. Luxurious, but a bit staid. Perfect for Alec.

Alec continues, "She’d kill me if she knew I was eating here in one of her special suits."

"Then it'll be our secret."

"She can always tell," Alec says ruefully. "I don't know how she does it." Their number's called and Alec goes to get their food.

He slides colorful food on pastel plates in front of Magnus. "Looks great." He takes a bite. It tastes even better. It's not going to win any Michelin stars, but it's fresh and uncomplicated.

Alec looks at his food without eating. The furrow is back between his eyebrows, which Magnus is beginning to read as shorthand for when Alec's feeling troubled by something. But it's Alec, so it's going to take him a while to pick out the perfect words, and there's a question that's probably inappropriate to ask when you've just become reacquainted with someone you were maybe boyfriends with for a day years ago, but it's a question they've been dancing around this whole time, a question that has kept Magnus up night after night for years. "Why didn't you call, Alexander?"

Alec plays with his straw. "A lot of reasons. When I first got back, I tried to convince myself and my family everything had been okay in New York, that it just wasn't for me and I packed up and left. I tried to forget, then I tried to fix myself. Said that everything that happened was my fault because of how I was. So I tried dating women - a woman - got engaged."

Magnus sucks in a breath. "And how did that turn out?"

"How do you think?" Alec smiles ruefully. "It ended like all my relationships - in tears and with someone fleeing the state. But we've started talking and we're okay now. Might even be friends in the future. I, uh, I was angry at you for a while."

"At me?"

Alec nods. "I felt like you just wanted to get rid of me. Like, you all but shoved me in a cab and told me to leave. And I had to - you were all I had. And you didn't want me."

"Never," Magnus says fiercely. "I never wanted you to leave, but it was the right thing for you."

"It was," Alec agrees easily, "but you still should have let me decide."

Magnus thinks back at how gutted he'd been, how numb on the drive to the airport, how many times he'd cried after Alec had left. He cannot ever recall asking Alec what he wanted to do.

"I'm sorry."

Alec shrugs. "No apologies needed. None of us are perfect. We protect and damage each other while trying to do the opposite. And it's just - it's how things go. I made my peace with that a long time ago."

And so has Magnus, who has realized more or less the same thing over the years. He is struck again by how different this Alec is, poised, self-assured and yet - Alec, with his rumpled shirt and newly stained Zegna tie, wild hair, is still recognizable to Manus, still makes his heart race uncomfortably with just a glance.

"I told you that I loved you," Magnus says. "Right before--"

"I remember," Alec interrupts, raises his chin, studies Magnus. It's a carefully appraising look that Magnus isn't used to seeing on Alec's face. He's being evaluated, weighed, judged, and Magnus wants to curl up under the weight of that heavy gaze. Instead, Magnus squares his shoulders and looks back. He's not a child anymore. He made some mistakes, wishes he could have been better for Alec maybe, but he'd done the best he could in a tough situation, and he knows he's a better person, a good person. He's grown up.

"And do you still?" Alec asks.

It's said so plainly, Magus almost asks him, still what? But then, it occurs to Magnus what Alec is asking. He wants to know if Magnus still loves him, still aches for him the way he did in New York, all those years ago.

And Magnus, God help him, does.

Alec would not ask him if he didn't want to the answer to be yes, if Alec still didn't feel the same way. Alec doesn't, never did play games the way that so many other of Magnus' lovers did.

Magnus realizes that he's afraid. It wasn't his fault, but Alec broke his heart in a way that no one ever had before. The depths of pain had been intolerable. He's afraid to hand him that kind of power again.

Alec may have changed, but he is still profoundly good in a way that few people are. He looks over at Alec, the sweep of his eyelashes, the clear hazel of his eyes, the - still, after all this time - devastating curve of his lips. On the table, Alec turns his hand, palm up.

The vast possibilities stretch out before him. Magnus and Alec could have it all: success, joy, and most of all, love. They could have the world at their fingertips as long as they're not afraid to take it

It's here, in this tiny diner, on Taco Tuesday, that Magnus slides his hand into Alec's. "Yes," he says. "Yes, of course. Always, Alexander."

 

 

 

The end.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wayland is a real bar, set near to where I picked for Magnus' apartment. Not really that relevant, but I laughed when I saw it.


	4. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a comment on this a couple of days ago reminded me that this ending was left pretty "open," which was not how i'd originally meant the story to be. i had an epilogue written, then swore i'd never post more shadowhunters fic, so i guess i deleted it at the time. or just mislabeled it and lost it. i don't remember, but i do know how i wanted it to end, so i typed this up pretty quickly to give this fic some closure. would have posted it as a stand-alone fic, but i didn't want anyone to read it, then go back to read the original fic only to get a nasty surprise.

 

 

EPILOGUE:

 

Magnus is nervous the land of good vibrations and Jamba Juice may not be for him, but the opportunity to wake up next to Alec far outweighs the cons.

Though Alec was more than willing to move to New York, Magnus had noticed that when Alec came to visit, he was smaller - less sure of himself, more likely to hand control to Magnus. It was ground zero for one of the worst times in Alec’s life and he was stuck in a pattern, reliving past hurts over and over again.

Magnus can’t be the one to make Alec small again.

“I think that’s the last box,” Magnus says, flopping down on the floor. He feels like all the dust in the greater New York area has migrated with him, stuck to his body in various creases and orifices in terrifying ways. Welcome to the West Coast, he thinks dryly. He’s going to have to start listening to Tupac now.

“Want something to drink?” Alec offers.

“Coffee, black,” Magnus says.

“Iced?”

“How dare you?” Magnus hisses.

Alec laughs softly, grabs the coffee beans from the freezer and gets the coffee grinder down from the top shelf. He doesn’t drink coffee on his own; he’s a tea drinker, which baffles and excites Magnus in equal measure. He now knows a disgusting amount about the different types of matcha.

“Why did you drink so much of my coffee?” Magnus asked, mystified, when he saw the tins and bags of tea on Alec’s shelf.

Alec shrugged. “Seemed like the thing to do. It’s kind of bitter.”

“That’s the point, Alexander!” Magnus cried.

The tinny whir of the beans grinding reminds him of Java Jace!!! where they met, where he misunderstood Alec from the ground up, where he had been so jaded and lost he’d given up on the possibility of finding love completely and had settled on a handjob in the back of a club instead. The heart is a muscle, like anything else, and can grow cold and weak from disuse - and when he met Alec, his heart had been DOA. Even if they hadn’t met again later, fallen in love, and made a harrowing cross-country trip to a state with enough happy people to make him physically ill, Magnus would always be grateful to Alec for that. For reminding him that love - even the possibility of it - is worth it.

Perhaps the move was less for Alec and more for himself. A new business, a new spring line, a new beginning. Not a bad idea at all.

Besides, he’s going to have fun replacing all of Alec’s boring ties with delicate Fozieris and some of the more exciting Zegnas. Once Alec gets used to those, then he can start working in his own designs.

Alec sits on the floor and hands Magnus a cup, which Magnus gratefully accepts with a pained groan. Magnus sits up, takes a tentative sip and winces. It’s just terrible and Magnus grins. They’ve got issues to work through - he knows Alec backtracked, tried to deny who he was, attempted to marry a woman, failed spectacularly, and now Magnus comes with his own fun smorgasbord of abandonment issues, which tend to rear their ugly heads during fights.

But not today. The sun is bright, highlighting the floating dust in the air, Alec’s knee a warm pressure against his, bitter freezer-burned coffee scalding his throat, and Magnus will take it all, gladly.

“We could go out and get Jamba Juice,” Alec suggests.

Magnus swears colorfully. “Fuck no,” he says.

 

 

 


End file.
